After He Left
by Mad Hatter Usagi
Summary: Alfred becomes depressed after his secret love, Arthur, moves back to England to go to college and leaves him and their gang behind in America without any way to contact him. Almost a year later, Alfred receives a letter from him, asking if he can come stay with him for the summer, and of course Alfred is delighted to see him again. AU, USUK. Rewriting this again
1. Chapter 1- Prologue

Stories often begin with a bit of a back story, and this one certainly needs one. You see, life never let up on Alfred F. Jones. Whether it was family, friend, gang, or health issues, they always seemed to attack him when he least expected it.

Alfred was born into a poor family. His parents were unemployed newly weds whom had just settled down in a small single-story home in a bad neighborhood. They received their welfare eagerly while they got fired from a constant stream of low-income jobs. After all, they didn't even have their GEDs. Sadly, they didn't realize that their property sat on the line of two rival gang's territory.

Within their first week of living in the house, the two gangs had sent hitmen to their homes. After getting their points across, the two gang leaders payed them a visit to talk to them about paying their dues to leave the young family alone. The two parents rushed out to find steady jobs and worked hard to keep them to pay the dues.

Two years of barely making it by later, the parents decide to brighten their lives a bit more by having another child. Once the gangs found out the mother was pregnant, they decided to start making them pay even more for the baby, as soon as it was born. Although frightened, they decided to keep the baby. So once little Matthew came along, everything got more tense at home.

The added tension hurt the parent's relationship because neither was home enough to deal with it, or their children for that matter. So when Alfred turned ten, and Matthew was eight, their mother walked out on them. This made their stressed father nearly spastic and an alcoholic. He found a way to vent in smacking around his children every day after work.

One night, Matthew got sick and tired of being beaten, so he ran away with virtually nothing to help him along his way. Two nights later, on Matthew's ninth birthday, a policeman turned up at their door and informed them, in what Alfred later learned to call a "funeral voice," that the eleven-year-old's little brother had been found in an alley a bit deeper in the city with a bullet lodged in his skull. Alfred sobbed his eyes out, but his father beat him for crying over someone whom had left them.

Because of his struggle of a home life, Alfred's social skills were lacking. He tended to stay out of people's way, but if he was provoked he would beat the living shit out of them. So in middle school he was in and out of the administrative office with referrals, detentions, and suspensions. Each one earned him another ten minutes of his father bruising his organs.

Alfred simply couldn't take it anymore, so he took his father's pistol one night and hid it in his waistband. Later on, when his father came home and hit him, he pulled the gun out and fired three bullets into his father's chest. After he was sure his father was dead, Alfred picked up the phone and dialed emergency services.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I just killed my dad."

"What?"

"My dad...I just shot him. Bring the police," he said, staring at the dead body in the kitchen.

"O-Okay," the operator said shakily. "Just stay on the line while I send them and an ambulance."

"He's already dead, and I'm fine. There's no need to get an ambulance."

"It's just to be safe. Where's the gun now?"

"I put it on the counter because I didn't need it anymore."

"Why did you need it, sir?"

"I didn't like being hit all the time," Alfred replied simply. "Oh, bye, I think they're here."

Outside, Alfred saw the flashing red and blue lights pull up. Two car doors slammed moments before a very forceful knock could be echoed throughout the house. He walked to the front of the house and opened the door for them. The policeman on the right was more experienced, you could tell by his "I've seen it all" eyes and his salt-and-pepper hair. The policewoman on the left looked fresh out of the academy with her naive expression and completely black hair.

"Did you call us, young man?" The policeman asked.

Alfred nodded, "C'mon in. He's in the kitchen." He led the two of them through his tiny house to the kitchen. The blood pooled around his father's dead body and stained his grey work shirt.

The woman gasped and turned away while her partner turned to him. "Son, do you know what you've done?"

"I killed my dad, right?"

"Why would you do that?"

Alfred pulled his shirt up, revealing a badly bandaged and seriously bruised abdomen and chest. "Because he wouldn't stop hitting me."

The maternal instincts came out in the female officer as she whimpered and hugged Alfred in a gentle, yet reassuring hug. Alfred stood there confused as to why he wasn't being put in handcuffs. The male officers was calling for an ambulance for him, not his father.

"Don't worry, kid, we're going to get this straightened out."

From there, Alfred was taken to the hospital to take X-rays, rewrap his wounds, and get some pain killers. He was kept there overnight for observation, and because he didn't have anywhere to go back to. A social worker came and spoke with him for an hour and a half before leaving. The next day, the social worker came back and explained in her fake cheer.

"We have a suggestion for you, Alfred. This is the first time I've ever seen a case like this, but we're willing to try and see if it will work with you. Your father, despite being quite poor and abusive, had a surprisingly large amount of money in life insurance and a sizable trust fund for you. Using some of the insurance money, we've paid off your house's mortgage and got you caught up on bills. The state will continue to siphon money from the insurance to pay for your living costs in that house, because you must remain there at least until you're eighteen.

"All foster homes in the area are full at the moment, and you are considered too 'dangerous' an entity to enter any adoption centers. This is our only option currently, but you seem like a responsible young man, so we're willing to try. You will meet with me, or one of my colleagues for an hour a day to talk, help with homework, or anything else you may need. You will also go through therapy for PTSD to help you get over this experience.

"Any questions?" The woman finished.

Alfred shook his head, his eyes wide with surprise.

Later on, when he entered high school, he mixed in with a bad crowd. Him and a few of his friends started a gang and called themselves the "Heroes". Alfred made a lot of friends and enemies, but ultimately became the top dog in the city, however young he was. He made sure that he could protect those he loved, and make sure the streets were generally safe. He managed to not have to kill to many people, although that was only because he was a pretty imposing person when he got mad.

In his sophomore year, a boy named Arthur Kirkland transferred in. Alfred was pretty feared by then and most people stayed out of his way, even the teachers. Arthur didn't know this and accidentally bumped into him in the hallway. When Alfred looked back, Arthur was looking up at him challengingly. Without any sort of apology, the Brit stood there with a scowl on his face.

Alfred smiled and said, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Arthur."

"You're cool, ya'know that? Wanna join the Heroes?"

After an explanation, Arthur shrugged nonchalantly and accepted. Soon the two were the best of friends, even more than Alfred's previous friends. Kiku, Yao, and Francis all understood though, because even though Alfred never admitted it, it was obvious that he was in love with the British transfer student. Arthur was just as infatuated as Alfred, as the American's friends very well knew. Yet neither wanted to sacrifice their friendship, or all their hard work they'd put into the Heroes.

After all, a week after Arthur's induction, he had become Alfred's second in command. That couldn't last past highschool though. A month and a half after graduation, Alfred walked over to Arthur's house to hang out, uninvited as he always was. It was a week after his birthday, where Arthur had taken him out to dinner with a bunch of their friends to a burger joint. When the dumber of the two blondes reached his friend's door, he saw that there was a note taped to it.

_Alfy-_

_I'm sorry, but I moved. I didn't tell you because I thought that if I did, you'd convince me not to go. I got a full ride scholarship to a school back in the UK, and I really wanted it, so I decided to go. I can't give you anything to contact me with, because I'm sure that if you did, I'd just drop out to come see you again. You're my best mate, so of course I would. So, to make my dream come true, I've got to leave. Once I'm done here, I'll contact you, I promise._

_-Arthur_

Alfred thought he could hear his heart break as he read the note, but he wasn't sure. He was drowned in despair during the following months, letting so many bad things happen when he was out of it. Kiku was stabbed in the chest, and ended up dying in the street, that was the beginning of the end. Rather quickly, the rest of the Heroes decided they couldn't keep going without a competent leader, and that simply wasn't Alfred.

So they broke up. Francis became a prostitute. Yao decided to leave town and travel to get over his brother's death, promising to visit every other month. Ivan was sent to jail for mutilating an enemy of his. Everyone who was alive, kept in touch in some way, yet Alfred never resurfaced from his depression.

Some new gangs took over, but Alfred never budged. He couldn't.

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><p>((This is the third time I've written this story, and I'm hoping it's the best. I thought it'd be easy to write this, but it never was. My ideas never came out thoroughly, and that kept bothering me. Review please! Tell me if I didn't explain things well enough!))<p> 


	2. Chapter 2- Since He's Been Gone

Alfred spiralled without support from anyone. His piece of land was soon the only one up for grabs in the area. Suddenly two rival gangs, the Waywards and the Reds, were circling him like vultures, waiting for a time when he showed vulnerability.

The man had become a drunk. Brown and green long-necked bottles and tall cans littered his home. Whenever he had company, like when his friends visited, he'd throw them out, but other than that he made no effort to keep his house clean. This wasn't really a problem since hardly anyone visited.

Even alone and friendless, the blond showed no signs of cracking under the pressure. Somehow he led everyone to believe that he was fine. Probably because he had a steady job that he showed up for every day. His father had an old friend, one who worked as a mechanic several blocks away from Alfred's house. The mechanic knew what his friend had become, and had taken every opportunity to help Alfred out when he was young. Since graduation, he'd taken him under his wing at the shop, teaching him everything he needed to know about cars.

It gave him a routine. He'd wake up with a hangover, take some pain-killer, drink some coffee, then head off for work. Even though he was working for a man who'd known him since he was born, he wasn't given the easy work. So when he came home, he was tired and completely aware of his empty house. Then he'd turn to his fridge and pull out a six-pack that he'd go through before the end of the night, getting caught up in television the whole time.

Then there were the visits from the gangs. At least twice a week he was confronted by one of the two rivaling gangs. He was threatened and yelled at, but his only answer was to pull out the 9 millimeter Glock he kept in his waistband and point it back, then smile threateningly and say, "My gun's bigger than your gun." The person would retreat, yelling false apologies.

Eventually, when Alfred had proved that he wasn't budging, the Waywards and the Reds sent out assassins. When he was targeted, Alfred didn't hesitate in shooting them. He did take pity enough, in the moment, to shoot them only in the knee or shoulder, just to disable them. It didn't mean that he wasn't furious. So he left his house that night with another gun to accompany his Glock, and several cases of bullets.

He shoved both assassins in the trunk of his car and drove to his first destination of the night. The Reds were closest, in an old converted warehouse. When Alfred parked, the people who had hung around outside stiffened to attention and watched him cautiously. He ignored their inquiring eyes as he got out of his car and opened the trunk. He pulled the man dressed in a red sweatshirt, black jeans, and a black t-shirt out by the red fabric, pulling the struggling, teary man out. His shirt was stained with a darker shade of red on his left shoulder, the stain, like a flower, was blooming and spreading out across the sweatshirt.

Alfred dragged the man, kicking and screaming, into the warehouse, flanked by numerous gang members, all with weapons drawn. Just to show he wasn't a fool, he let his arm pull his shirt up, seemingly by accident, and reveal one of the guns in his waistband. He stopped by a guy who looked in charge and dropped the whimpering assassin. The blond pulled out the gun and shot the sniveling man on the ground in the forehead, killing him instantly.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed, bespectacled man that stood in front of him looked visibly shocked. Before he lost his nerve, he asked, "Are you here just to kill one of my men?"

"Nah, I thought it was about time I met you and I have a couple'a things to say about how you've been acting."

"Well, my name's Lloyd, and you know what I do."

Alfred nodded sagely, then said, "Yeah, I do. So I guess you've been thinking that you need my little plot of land, or at least you think I might be a threat, right?"

Lloyd nodded.

"Okay, so I'm gonna lay down a couple of rules, and I'll tell you what you get in exchange, and then I'll say what happens if you ignore this, 'kay?"

Another nod.

"Number one, my land is my own. I'm not leaving anytime soon. Number two, don't attack, or attempt to kill me, because you see how that ends up," Alfred waved at the guy on the ground with his gun before continuing. "Number three, I am not going to join you, so don't even try that move. Number four, I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill my boss 'cause he's a family friend. And number five, do not come on my property, whether it's to talk to me about something, or set fire to the place. Sound good?"

Llyod's face screwed up as he asked, "What do we get in return?"

"I'm not joining you, or the Waywards, so for one, I'm not your enemy. I won't jump in to save victims, or discourage you in the least."

"What if I don't agree?"

"Then I'll become a problem," he said, pulling the second gun from his waist band. "And I've been known to be a pretty big problem, as you know."

"Okay, okay. I agree to your terms," Lloyd said quietly, offering his hand to shake. Alfred didn't take it and simply turned around to go back to his car.

When he was back in his car, he turned his music up loud so he couldn't hear the other man in the trunk screaming himself hoarse. He hated it when people screamed. Fifteen minutes later he pulled up to a small house on the other side of town. Two men with pistols came out instantly, aiming at him. Alfred simply walked to his trunk and pulled out the screaming man, dragging him across the lawn like he had the first man.

The two men saw that Alfred also had a gun, and that it was pointed straight at their blubbering friend's head, so they backed off and even opened the door for him. A surprisingly ecstatic man with pale blue hair and startlingly blue eyes was standing in the center of the room, bouncing from foot to foot. He practically shrieked when he saw Alfred and bounded up to him with a pleased grin on his face.

"Ohmigod you're _actually here_! I can't believe I finally get to meet you! I've heard so much about you! I-I'm Ian, by the way, a huge fan of yours, and I lead the Waywards." The fanboying young man stuck his hand out for a handshake, and Alfred shot the bloodied man he'd been holding by the hair in the chest, then dropped him as he bled out on the carpet.

An almost sexual noise came from Ian, and he looked like he was squirming to conceal a boner, "Um, I guess he deserved that."

"Damn right he did."

"Is there anything I can do to make this better?" Ian asked, looking slightly like a kicked puppy.

"Yes, actually. I'd appreciate it if you didn't send people to threaten, or kill me, or my boss. Don't come on my property either, I'm not selling it, or allying myself with you or the Reds, and I don't want either of you setting foot there."

Ian nodded furiously, then paused and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to join? You could be the leader!"

"I'm sure. I just want to be left alone."

"Okay! I'll start sending you money too."

"What? No, I don't need that," Alfred said, confused.

"But I _want_ to. I want you to like me, since I _love_ you."

The blond looked at him, slightly uncomfortable and slightly pleased.

A sudden thought came over the blue man as he exclaimed, "You aren't getting the Heroes back together, are you? Because then we'd be enemies!"

"No, I'm not. I'm just working and living."

Ian nodded again, "I'll do anything to make sure that you live peacefully. But...I've noticed some of your old members come see you every once in a while."

"Yeah, they're friends, so they check up on me now and then. We are definitely not reestablishing the Heroes, kid."

The shorter man beamed, "Good. Good. _Good._ It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm going home," Alfred said, turning away from the kid and walking back to his car. The Waywards watched him with reverence as he passed, letting him get in his car and drive away.

After that day, Alfred's life returned to peace. Every week he got a letter with a short love letter and a wad of cash enclosed inside, from Ian. Lloyd didn't keep in contact, except to call and briefly explain what they were doing with their time at varying times. He had no idea how Lloyd had gotten his phone number, but he didn't really care.


	3. Chapter 3- A Letter and a Phone Call

Several months after the incident with the gangs, Alfred was driving back to his house from work. It was just after six in the afternoon when he pulled into his lot. He hopped out of his car, then looked at it sadly. The one earthly possession that he wanted to gain was a mint, black 1967 Chevy Impala, but he hadn't found one within his price range. He was willing to buy a slightly banged up one and fix it, but none had been put up to sell in recent years.

Alfred turned and walked up to his house, opening the mailbox and pulling out a small pile of envelopes. He went straight inside and sat at his kitchen table to look at them. He flicked through them with an inner monologue that sounded something like, _"Bill...bill...Ian's check...bill...insurance check...Social Service's check...bill...oh, what's this?"_ He picked up the strange envelope and studied it.

It was a pale green envelope, addressed from an apartment complex in Britain. There was no name on the outside of the envelope, but he recognized it from the summers that those special envelopes had come to his house regularly every Wednesday as his best friend was on vacation. He tore into it, his heart beating fast with anticipation. Alfred's eyes slid down the letter to rest on those two words; _Arthur Kirkland_, that mattered to him so much more than he was willing to admit.

* * *

><p>June 11<p>

_Dear Alfred,_

_I know it's been almost a year since we've spoken, and I'm sorry for that, but it was necessary. In this letter, I'll try to explain why I left, and why I'm writing now of all times._

_I got a full scholarship to a university in Britain, and decided to take it. I never told you, but I've always dreamed of being a teacher, so this was my chance. If I had told you beforehand, you may have said something to discourage me from going, and all it would have taken was an, "I'll miss you." I was afraid that I didn't have the will power to leave you, my best friend, behind, so I didn't tell you. If I had contacted you at all this year, I probably would have left at the drop of a hat, so I didn't._

_I'm so incredibly sorry for this. I must sound like I've giving you excuses, but I couldn't let myself throw my education away._

_A few months ago, I met Yao by chance in a coffee shop. He told me everything that happened after I left. I made him promise not to tell you where I was, or that I met you, so don't blame him. It's bugged me for months, so I've decided to ask if I can stay with you, at home, this summer. It'd be nice to catch up and hang out again._

_If you don't want to, or if you're still angry with me, call the number at the bottom. Please let me see you again, Alfy._

_With Love, _

_Arthur Kirkland_

* * *

><p>Alfred's heart was racing with those feelings he'd tried to hard to suppress since he'd met the grumpy little Brit. He was nervous, but he picked up the phone and dialed the number quickly, his fingers shaking slightly. After a few rings, that familiar voice answered.<p>

"'Ello?"

"Arthur?" He croaked.

"Yes, who is this?" His friend replied curiously.

"How could you forget my voice? I would've thought you'd remember my voice, Iggy, but apparently you're too busy to think about your old friend," Alfred teased, letting his excitement course through him.

"Oh my god! Alfred? Is that really you?" Arthur questioned, his voice sounding relieved and ecstatic.

"Of course man, didja really think I wouldn't call?"

"I thought you'd be very cross with me..." the British man choked out, tears were probably stinging his eyes.

"Why would I be? You're my best friend!"

"But I left without a word and betrayed you and the heroes and I-"

"If you'd said anything, I would've stopped you. I missed you a lot, but you were right not to contact me. Until now, that is. You've got to come home to visit!"

"I can come? Even after..."

"Don't start with that again. Of course you can! I missed you dude, and I wanna see you again."

"But-"

"How come you wanna back out now, huh? Do you not wanna see me?"

"I just can't believe you're forgiving me," Arthur said shakily, tears probably clouding his vision and drenching his cheeks.

"When's the next flight out?"

"Ummm...Three hours from now, looks like. But-"

"Take that! I'll meet you at the airport. Chill, dude, I want you here ASAP."

"O-okay then, Goodbye, you git."

"Great, seeya tonight!" Alfred said, hanging up.


	4. Chapter 4- Home Again

Over the next eight hours, the blond finally cleaned up his house. The bottles and cans were disposed of, he scrubbed, vacuumed, did the laundry and dishes, and even cleaned the toilets. He stocked up on tea and Arthur's favorite foods, along with some other things he needed. When he was finished, he showered and changed his clothes. He didn't sleep a wink, but he looked nice, besides he was too anxious to drift off.

He pulled on a red v-neck tee, a pair of dark jeans, and a pair of black Chucks. He shoved his cell and wallet into his pockets and grabbed the keys off the counter. As he strolled out of the house and drove to the airport in silence, he looked over at the passenger seat as he thought about the man who would occupy it later in the day.

It was around five in the morning when Alfred pulled into the airport parking garage. He hopped out of the car and walked down a couple of flights of stairs before walking out of the garage and toward the building. The blue-eyed man walked through security and waited out in the terminal, wandering around the small shops and peering at the arrival times anxiously.

When they announced Arthur's arrival on the loud-speaker, Alfred didn't know whether he would jump for joy, or pass out on the spot from sheer excitement. It takes about fifteen minutes for them to lead the plane away from the tarmac and link up to the building. The blond bounced from foot to foot as he watched the first few passengers trickle away from the gate.

Near the end, he saw another blond man step away from the gate, pausing a few feet away from the stream of people to switch his phone on. His eyes were green, matching the t-shirt he was wearing under the black hoodie that he'd always worn before he left. The man only wore it because it sported a circular, white patch featuring a black mask; the Heroes sign. A girl who'd gone out with Francis had sewn it there, along with several other things that had belonged to the group, like bags and shirts.

A wave of relief passed over Alfred as he approached the unaware man, a bright smile on his face. Before he spoke, he shoved his twitching hands into his pockets, trying not to think of how much he wanted to pull Arthur close and keep him pressed to his body forever. "Hey, Artie," the blue-eyed man said, using one of the many nicknames that had become permanent fixtures of the British boy's life.

Arthur's eyes flicked up, taking in the sight of his best friend for a moment too long to be considered platonic. He launched himself at the American man, his hands clinging to the blood-colored fabric that adorned Alfred's torso as he embraced him. Alfred's hands came out of his pockets so he could hug back, smiling into Arthur's slightly lighter blond hair as he heard little gleeful, slightly nervous, laughs escape from his friend.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Arthur announced as they parted, his eyes shining with delight.

"It's great to have you back, if only for the summer," Alfred responded.

"I'm s-"

"If you try to apologize again, I might just hit you," the taller man said, looking partly serious, partly joking. "Now let's go get your stuff."

Arthur elbowed him in the stomach, trying to scowl, but failing since he's riding high on the excitement and happiness that was rolling about in his head. "Lead the way, git."

"With pleasure. Right this way, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred said, flourishing his hand out like a butler and bowing slightly. He righted himself, grinning, and took the shorter's hand to lead him through the crowd.

They were quiet as they walked, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alfred checked signs as he led the other through the airport, letting the rumble of the crowd around them fill his ears as he thought about all the things he wanted to do with his friend. Arthur was staring outright at the hand that was holding his, his face pink as Alfred's thumb rubbed the back of his palm absently when they'd stopped to look at yet another directory. All he could think about was that hand, and how he hoped his own wasn't too sweaty.

When they finally reached baggage claim, Alfred watched the green-eyed man pick up his dark duffel bags and carry them back to where he was waiting. Without being asked, Alfred took one from him and waved off a thank you before it could be formed. He didn't need to be thanked. That bag he was holding was something tethering Arthur there for almost three months, so _damn right_ he was going to carry it. Arthur didn't need to know that though.

_I'm finally home,_ Arthur thought as the two of them walked to the parking garage. _And home is with __**him**__. Alfred, whom I love, couldn't possibly know this though, since I've been away for a year. Fuck, why did I leave him in the first place? All for a bloody education...is it even worth it?_

"Iggy? Your bag?" Alfred pointed at the other bag, the one in the shorter man's hand. They were back at the car, a car that had seen a lot of gore, anger, sadness, and crippling depression. The trunk was open, showing that Alfred had already stowed the first duffel inside. Arthur tossed the other one in, then walked around and hopped in the passenger seat.

When Alfred got in, the emerald-eyed man pointed to the dash and rolled his eyes. There, carved into the dash, was "_AK_" and "_AJ_". They'd taken a knife to the dash back in junior year when Alfred had finally been able to drive his father's old car around. The initials had been put up near the corner of the dash, close to the window. When a few of their friends had seen it, they'd teased and said that maybe they should have encased those four little letters in a heart. Both of them secretly wished that they had.

The two of them drove for a while, and Alfred let the other flip through the radio stations, something that he'd been known to get pissy about if anyone even tried. As they pulled in the American's driveway, a navy blue SUV parked across the street. Arthur saw an angry look pass over his friend's face for a brief moment before he reached across the console and opened the glove box. The driver's manual, a dozen or so napkins, and Alfred's Glock were stowed inside, and the gun was the one thing that was taken.

The Brit's eyes glanced warily over at the driver seat, where Alfred was already pulling himself out of the car and turning to look at the SUV. Arthur followed suit, curious to who the visitor was. He stood on the other side of the car, letting the vehicle act as a shield for him. The green-eyed man watched as a somewhat-scrawny, blue-haired man exited the car and approached as far as a foot away from the curb in front of Alfred's house, six or seven yards away from them. Two men flanked him, both in blue sweatshirts. Arthur thought they looked rather ridiculous with all the blue, but he bit his tongue.

The man in the center pouted like a toddler and whined, "Alfreeed! You said! You said you wouldn't try to get the Heroes back together!"

Arthur looked over at his friend, wondering if he was only allowed back so that they could restart the gang. His mind was soon eased as Alfred rolled his eyes and replied, "Shut up, Ian. Arthur's just visiting."

"You say that, but you'll-" The man identified as Ian began.

"I said I was done with all that, didn't I? Now why are you here?"

Ian blushed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt like an embarrassed teenage girl. "Well, I, um, just wanted to see what you were up to. I heard you'd left your house earlier than usual today...I, uh, actually, I was wondering if you'd like to..." Ian mumbled, biting his lip as he trailed off.

"Spit it out," Alfred replied disinterestedly. Arthur could plainly guess what the blue-haired man was going to ask, since he'd been wanting to ask since he met Alfred in high school.

"Doyouwannagoouttodinnerwithmesometimemaybe?" Ian rushed, then stared at his crush pleadingly.

"No."

"What? Do you not swing that way, or-?" One of the men flanking Ian started to say, but was cut off by a wave of Alfred's hand.

"I just don't like you," the armed man said, looking bored.

A wave of rage crashed over the scrawny man, and he advanced on them, a gun being pulled out of his coat. He passed the curb, now officially on Alfred's property. He waved his gun furiously at Arthur and yelled, "It's because of _him_ isn't it? Maybe I should kill him, if he's gonna get in the way?"

Before Arthur could register it, a gunshot went off. For a moment, he looked down at himself, expecting to find a red flower blooming on his green shirt, but he found none. So when he looked up, he saw that Ian was on his knees, clutching his shoulder and whimpering a little. Ian's gun was on the gun a few feet away, the safety still on. The two other men scrambled forward, grabbed their leader, and backed away to their SUV.

It was then that Arthur looked over to where Alfred was clicking the safety back on his gun. He had that sort-of resigned look on his face as he put the Glock back in the glove box and walked over to the hose, at the side of the house. He pulled it over to where Ian had left a puddle of blood, dropped it, then walked back over to the house and turned the spout on. For a few quiet moments, all they heard was the rush of water washing the blood off Alfred's driveway, and into the sewers.

When the taller man finally met Arthur's eyes, after turning the spout off and walking within a yard, the shorter exclaimed, "What the bloody hell was that?"

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><p>((I really like how this is turning out. I think I just needed to write it three times, you know? Anyway, please review! Love you guys!))<p> 


	5. Chapter 5- Explanations

((I'd like to thank guest user **Paparoxi** for reviewing recently and getting me to write again, under threat of being shanked if I didn't update soon (which I thought was hilarious by the way). I haven't written anything for a little while, it was a block. I'm on vacation right now, but it's boring me to death so I started writing this instead of talking to family. You're welcome! :D))

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><p>"What the bloody hell was that?" Arthur yelled, gesturing wildly to where the SUV drove away from.<p>

"It's a long story," Alfred replied, looking rather tired and unwilling to answer.

The shorter crossed his arms over his chest and growled, "Don't give me that shit."

Blue eyes lit up with a hint of a smile as their owner chuckled, "It's been a while since I've had your temper around. Fine, I'll tell you. Let's get your stuff inside first."

Alfred walked around to the trunk and popped it. He gave one of the duffels to Arthur, took one himself, then shut the trunk and led him inside. Arthur looked around, noting all the small changes in the house he'd spent most of his afternoons and weekends at all through high school. The subtle shift in where furniture was, where he put things, how everything was clean. It was all filed away into his brain as he scanned the environment, he needed to remember this for when he left again.

"Tea?"

The bushy-browed young man's gaze snapped back to Alfred as he stammered, "Uh, yeah, I mean, if you have any."

The taller man handed the second duffel over and walked to the kitchen as he said, "You can put your stuff in the guest bedroom."

Arthur walked his bags back to the bedroom as his friend fixed his drink. When he returned from stuffing his clothes in the drawers and putting the rest of his things away, there was a steaming mug of tea on the kitchen table, across from where Alfred was sitting with a mug of coffee. The sitting man smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

After the emerald-eyed man sat down, Alfred sighed and began, "When the Heroes were disbanded, two rival gangs moved into the area, creating the same border war that happened before we took over. They're the Waywards and the Reds.

"The leader of the Reds is this guy with dark hair and eyes named Lloyd. He's got glasses, and of all the times I've seen him, he's worn formal clothes. Like suits and sweater vests and stuff. It's kinda weird for someone in his position. He's this calculating little bastard that calls me every week.

"The leader of the Waywards, you just met. His name is Ian, and he's the most annoying little shit I've ever met. He sends me money, because he says I deserve to live in luxury or whatever. Apparently he's in love with me too," Alfred said, rolling his eyes.

"But how did-" Arthur started.

"Let me finish. Okay, so one day the Waywards and the Reds sent assassins to kill me at the same time. I was sick of it at that point, so I shot 'em both to disable them and took 'em back to their leader's hideouts. I worked a deal with each of them, and now they both contact me somehow to make sure I'm still following it.

"Ian's a bit crazy though. Unstable, actually. I hate the guy, but he's infatuated with me."

"Why do you hate him?"

"He had sent assassins after me before I went to go talk to him. And plus the guy's just plain aggravating. You can only take so much of him before you wanna shoot him."

"So...you don't hate him because he's gay?" Arthur asked, staring into his mug.

"How could I? I'd be a hypocrite. After all, I'm bi."

There was an awkward pause before Arthur, in a squeaky voice, asked, "You are?"

The blue-eyed man suddenly looked worried, "You didn't know?"

Arthur shook his head slowly before stammering, "N-no, I didn't...Well, I guess I never told you that I was gay, did I?"

"You're-?"

"Yes, I realized in high school."

"Wow, uh, how?"

A sly little smirk appeared on the green-eyed man's face. "I got a crush on this guy, something I'd never felt for girls. I, um, never really gave up on that crush either." His face flushed pink.

"Who was it?"

"Not telling! You'll probably just tease me... Anyway how'd you realize?"

"That I liked girls and boys? Pretty much the same. I had a crush on a guy in high school, but I was still attracted to girls."

"Are you going to tell me your crush?"

"If you ever tell me yours," Alfred replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hey, if I can guess yours, will you tell me if I'm right?"

"Sure," Arthur replied with a shrug, not believing that Alfred could guess that it was actually himself.


	6. Chapter 6- Those Damn Feelings Again

Later that night, the two of them sat in front of the television, watching a stupid reality show. They were waiting for the pizza to arrive, and had gotten extremely bored. They had settled on mocking the lives of a group of young adults who couldn't get their shit together. Every time something dramatic happened, the two of them would start criticizing the show down to the last detail, laughing at each other's points.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred pushed Arthur off the couch exclaiming, "Not it! My wallet's on the counter!"

The shorter glared at the reclined man, who was smirking at him as if to say, "What are you gonna do about it?" He walked to the kitchen anyway and grabbed the brown leather wallet before flinging open the front door. A young man with spiky, green-dyed hair stood there, holding a pizza box. As soon as he looked up from the box, a flirtatious smile flew to his face.

"How much?" Arthur asked, ignoring the smile.

"How about you give me your number, and I'll cover it, eh?" The man asked, his voice merely a low purr.

"Uh-"

"Thanks for the pizza," Alfred said as he slipped between them, taking the box as he grabbed the wallet from Arthur and flicked a twenty-dollar bill at the delivery man before closing the door with his foot. He innocently walked to the kitchen, the British man trailing behind, looking shocked and slightly amused.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, that was Ricky. Ricky is a douche. You don't want to flirt with Ricky," Alfred said, not looking at Arthur as he set the pizza box down and fished around the cabinets for plates.

As the blue-eyed man set plates on the counter, Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "And how do you know?"

"Ricky and I were...a thing. We definitely had a thing. It wasn't a good thing, it was just a sex thing, you know? Didn't end well for either party," Alfred said dismissively as he grabbed a couple of pieces of the pizza and set it on his own plate, walking back to the living room to escape Arthur's look of disbelief.

"You fucked the delivery man?" Arthur said, his voice curiously an octave higher than usual, as he brought his own slices into the living room.

"Yeah, you know, it just sorta happened. I fell for his flirting. His hair was pink at the time...and it wasn't so spiky," Alfred said, looking into the distance.

"So his hair changed and suddenly you weren't into it?"

"That wasn't why it ended, I'm not that shallow. I just couldn't anymore. He held a grudge and sold some naked pictures and screenshots of sexts to Ian."

Arthur felt like the world was falling down around him as he wondered why the hell these two, apparently terrible young men, had seen his crush naked. "_Ian_ has _pictures_ of you?"

"I've heard he's very appreciative," Alfred nodded sagely, chewing on a long string of cheese.

Arthur lapsed into silence as he ate, staring blindly at the television. After a while he finally asked, "How'd it start between you and...Ricky?"

"I called for pizza. He flirted with me, and I, um, decided that giving him my number was worth a pizza," Alfred said, turning slightly pink.

"You are one fucked up guy, you know that?"

"Hey!"

"No, you really are."

There was an uncomfortable silence before the two of them finally looked at each other. A short pause later, they were both on the floor, laughing harder than either of them had in a very long time. They pulled on each other's shirts, trying to pull themselves up, but collapsing again and again. Eventually, they just lie there, letting the food go cold as they curled up on the floor next to each other.

* * *

><p>"Francis?"<p>

"Hate that frog."

"Yao."

"No, he's just a friend."

"Antonio?"

"Not after that argument, we've basically hated each other since then."

"Ivan?"

"GOD NO!"

"Um..."

"Just stop, Alfy, you won't guess," Arthur said, flicking through a magazine, his feet thrown up on the end of the couch. The man with the cowlick paced behind the couch, running through the names in his head.

"But I _have_ to know!"

"Well lay off for a while!"

"Aw, come on, gimme a hint!" Alfred insisted.

"No! You have to guess by yourself!"

Alfred stopped pacing and looked over the couch at his friend, who's gaze hadn't left the terrible gossip magazine that he'd bought ironically when they went to the store the previous week. He was biting his lip as he scanned an article on the Royal family, his toes curling and uncurling anxiously as his eyes flicked across the page. A wave of lust rolled through Alfred as he imagined making the man a few feet away looking at him similarly, except naked and back in his bedroom, with more passion.

Suddenly the blue-eyed man turned on his heel and walked back to his bedroom, calling at him as he retreated, "Fine, I'll stop. For _now_!" The door was closed and locked behind him before he slumped onto the bed, feeling the growing erection in his pants. "_Fuck_..." He murmured.

Arthur peered at the door at the end of the hallway, where his friend had left to. He wondered if he'd hurt his feelings, but dismissed the thought. Alfred was tough, and he'd made it plain before that Arthur couldn't do much to hurt him. In the first few weeks of their friendship alone, the shorter boy had said things to him that most people would hit him for, and Alfred merely laughed and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Alfred would abruptly leave in the middle of conversations to head back to his room for an hour or so. Arthur started to wonder if Alfred was simply getting sick of him being around, even if he did go to work every weekday. Somehow they'd settled into a routine where Arthur made most of their meals, unless they went out to eat. It was strangely like married life, which made them each uncomfortable and gleeful.<p>

One night, after dinner and while they were watching a rerun of Elementary, Arthur looked over at where his friend was sprawled on the couch, from his own place on the armchair. Alfred looked uncomfortable, and kept shifting. He glanced over at Arthur, trying to be discreet but failing terribly. When he knew that he was caught, he flushed red and snapped his eyes back to the television.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You've been acting weird for weeks!" Arthur exclaimed, sitting up better.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Alfred muttered in response, standing up and turning away as he spoke.

"You obviously aren't, so just tell me," The shorter replied, standing up and taking a step forward.

"It's nothing. Absolutely nothing," he said, beginning to walk away, toward the bedroom like always.

Arthur growled and grabbed the larger man's arm, meaning to stop him. He was pulled a few feet before Alfred stopped and stood eerily still. Arthur knew how scary the man that he loved could be when he was angry, although that rage had _never_ been directed at him, unlike some of their friends.

"Please, Alfy, I can tell that something's bothering you. I just want to help."

Alfred suddenly turned and pushed the smaller man up against the wall, his hands on his wrists. Arthur's first thoughts were that he'd gone too far, that he had finally broken Alfred's patience, and that he was going to be hit. Then the unthinkable happened when Arthur flinched and shut his eyes. A pair of chapped, but still soft, lips collided with his own.

Warmth flooded the green-eyed man's stomach as the hands left his wrists and the lips retreated. Suddenly the heat that was Alfred F. Jones had pulled away, turning from him with a look of absolute horror. Arthur was stiff, his mind reeling from the turn of events.

"Wh-what the hell was that?!" Arthur exclaimed when he finally regained his ability to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Artie, I-I don't- I can't- I've tried so hard not to- and I just-" Alfred stammered, turning back and looking so desperate to explain, but not finding the ability.

"Why did you do that?" The other man responded quietly, slowly.

"I love you. But I don't want to lose you as a friend so I've kept quiet and it's really, _really_ hard to be around you and not _want_ you as much as I do," Alfred answered, looking extremely shy for once.

"Is this a joke? Because it's not funny."

"It's not a joke! I can't joke about this. I love you, Iggy, and I'm sorry that I just fucked everything up..." He said, turning away looking like he'd just lost the world.

All he heard was a teary, "Oh, Alfred," before he was being turned around and pushed against the wall with surprising force for someone Arthur's size. The Brit's lips slid against his own as their bodies pressed flush against each other. Fingers were tangled in Alfred's hair when Arthur nipped the blue-eyed man's lower lip, begging entrance.

When it was allowed, Alfred quickly overtook the smaller's tongue and kissed him so thoroughly that Arthur elicited a small, erotic moan. The larger's hands slid down Arthur's body, keeping him close at the small of his back. When they broke for breath, the emerald-eyed man's sparkling eyes gazed up at the sapphire pair, each of them glazed with lust. Blue looked confused though, as if he didn't possibly understand what the hell compelled green to do that.

"I love you too, git. Now, if you don't fuck me, _right now_, I will shoot you."


End file.
